Stinging Nettle

Over the years, the old-timer-up-the-road has given me a lots of advice… albeit, mostly ridiculous advice, but advice nonetheless.

“Never get involved with the mafia,” he whispered to me one day in the barn, peeking over the back of a cow.  “Whaaaaat?” I replied incredulously, as my eyes rolled around a little.  “Hush, girly,” was the only answer I got as he hobbled off toward the milkhouse.

One of the oddest pieces of advice he bestowed upon me was when he said, “Make sure you take your dentures out of your pocket before you put your pants in the washing machine.” Granted, he had a snoot full of moonshine when he came up with that beauty, but I believe he was talking from experience.

Then there was this gem regarding pasturing the cows… “Ya know,  too much green grass in the spring makes their gums hurt.”

And this sage advice… “Milk a bull and you’ll have a friend for life.”

Or the time he cautioned me, “Never p*ss on an electric fence.”

There have been times when I have heeded his advice, however.

“Never turn your back on a bull,” he grumbled the first time we brought in a 2,000 lb bovine for breeding. “They’ll rip you a new a**hole and then kill you dead.”

“Always look before you squat,  you don’t want a bee-hind full of nettles,” he hollered after me as I ran off into the woods one afternoon during haying season.

“Never get in a pissin’ match with a skunk,” was his way of warning me that I would not win the argument about how far apart tomatoes should be planted in the garden.

“Sometimes your closest friend will end up being your worst enemy and you just have to walk away cause a**holes like that ain’t worth the sh*t on the bottom of your boots ,” he spouted the day we were all betrayed by a close relative.

Even though the old-timer has come up with a plethera of oddball, useless and completely moronic bits of advice throughout the years, there was one thing he told me that I’ve held dear to my heart. On a bright, sunny day under a cloudless sky in the middle of a freshly mowed hayfield, he whacked me on the back of the head with his gnarled, calloused hand and said, “Girly, don’t let nobody tell you that you need a church to find God. Look around… He’s right here.”

Amen, old-timer, amen.